


Fortune Comes in Threes

by azephirin



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Communication, Friends to Lovers, Multi, Pre-Threesome, Requited Love, University, Voyeurism, Walking In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-15
Updated: 2011-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 17:03:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Three's my lucky number, and fortune comes in threes.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortune Comes in Threes

**Author's Note:**

> To the extent that any of these characters are real people, this story depicts them as they are fictitiously portrayed in Aaron Sorkin and David Fincher's ~~RPF 'verse~~ movie _The Social Network_. Title, summary, and cut text from the song "[Three](http://lyrics.wikia.com/Massive_Attack:Three)," by Massive Attack.

Mark hasn’t seen Eduardo all day, and he just got this great idea for picture uploads, basically a tagging system, where users can tag themselves and their friends on their own pictures, but they can also go into other people’s pictures and tag whoever they want to, too. Total interconnectedness—he can’t believe he didn’t think of this before.

It was after ten o’clock before Mark realized that Wardo hadn’t come to get him for dinner, which is weird, but Mark ate some noodles so he was fine. But it meant that he didn’t get a chance to tell Wardo about tagging, and how he’s got the implementation 75 percent in place, and if they want to expand to other campuses, this is perfect because don’t people go to parties at other schools? That’s how Eduardo and Saskia met, after all. People can upload their pictures and tag their friends at other colleges, and it’ll go viral. The Facebook won’t even have to advertise.

Hmm. Maybe Eduardo’s out with her? That’d be unusual—it’s a weekday. Maybe he has an exam tomorrow, although he usually tells Mark about that kind of thing, not that Mark always remembers. Of the two of them, Wardo is in charge of remembering everything. Division of labor.

Mark turns the corner of the third-floor landing and opens Wardo’s door.

Eduardo’s sitting, his back to Mark, and Mark can see Saskia’s thighs on either side of his hips. She’s riding him, pushing and pulling herself up and down, and Mark can see Eduardo’s back and hips flex as he thrusts up into her. Eduardo’s back is—Mark doesn’t have words for that. He can see the slide of muscle and sinew, like some unimaginably elegant machine or like a jungle cat, one of those animals that’s all silken predator, nothing wasted. And that’s not usually how he thinks of Wardo, but that’s what he looks like now. It’s not bright in there—not well lit the way Wardo prefers when he’s reading—but Mark can make everything out perfectly, can see the sweat on Eduardo’s skin gleam in the dim light, can see Saskia’s hands bury themselves in his hair, can see where Eduardo’s fingers are hidden between them, probably stroking her clit. Mark’s seen that in porn, but never tried it in real life.

Mark can hear them, too. Saskia’s moaning in little bitten-off pants, and Eduardo gasps her name. Their bodies even make their own noises, messy and wet and intimate, and the whole thing comes together in the perfect rhythm they’ve set. It’s better than the best porn Mark has ever downloaded, it’s everything he doesn’t let himself think about unless it’s really late at night and everyone’s asleep and nothing else will work, it’s Mark’s best friend and his girlfriend.

Your best friend isn’t supposed to be your porn. Even Mark knows that. And he knows that he shouldn’t be standing here. Mark doesn’t understand sometimes, how people talk to each other while saying something completely different and yet everybody gets what it all means, but he does know that if you walk in on somebody, especially your friend, you’re supposed to act like it didn’t happen. Close the door, hope they didn’t see you, walk away. Dustin walked in on Chris and his boyfriend once, and that's what he did. He teased Chris about it later and Chris didn’t really seem to mind, but at the time Dustin had jumped back and shut the door and dragged Mark out with him for a beer. That’s what Mark should do now. He knows this.

Except then Saskia opens her eyes.

She looks right at him, but she doesn’t scream or yell at him to get out or anything that girls do in movies when somebody they’re not having sex with sees them having sex. She just looks right at him, and then Eduardo turns around, too, and Mark is caught, Mark is so caught, he’s standing right there staring and he shouldn’t be here. Wardo’s skinny but just broad enough that Mark can’t see Saskia’s breasts, so there’s that, but Mark is looking at his bare back and he bets it’s warm to the touch and he doesn’t want to stop.

“Mark,” Wardo says, almost a whisper.

Eduardo and Saskia look at each other and it’s like they’re talking using invisible laser beams into each other’s eyes. Mark backs away, a little. Maybe he can get out and close the door after all.

Except then Saskia breaks that gaze, that silent conversation, and she reaches over Eduardo’s shoulder. She holds out her hand like she’s expecting Mark to take it, and he’s not close enough to do that. Eduardo’s bed is on the other side of the room, and the room’s not huge, but Mark would still have to take a couple of steps. Go inside.

He looks at Eduardo and now they’re having one of those laser-beam conversations, but in a language Mark doesn’t actually speak, like when Eduardo talks to his family on the phone and Mark tries to decipher it using his high-school Spanish. Eduardo’s looking at him, his eyes huge and dark and beautiful, and he’s twisted around a little, enough that Mark can see the curve of his spine. Mark’s fingers twitch and he realizes that he wants them to learn that arc by touch.

Whatever Wardo’s trying to say, he’s not telling Mark to go away.

Mark takes a step closer, and Eduardo smiles, biting his lip, like he doesn’t want to be hopeful yet but he can’t help himself. Mark knows that smile—this is a piece he can decode—and he takes another step. Only a few more inches and he’ll be touching distance: Saskia’s hand, Wardo’s back, both of them. Two people, oh my God. He barely knows what to do with one other naked person besides himself, much less two. Mark knows how to code and hack and fence and write in two different ancient languages, but he has no idea how to have a threesome (oh my God, a threesome) with these two gorgeous people, one of whom he loves so much.

“Shut the door,” Saskia says, and Mark’s pretty sure that means _shut the door so that nobody sees all three of us_ rather than _shut the door and go away_.

Mark pushes the door closed, and Eduardo’s smile breaks into something joyful and complete.


End file.
